Due the mad rush of personal events that surround the holidays, Mind the Thorns is going on Hiatus until the new year.
I would like to personally thank all the fans and readers of Mind the Thorns that has made it the successful reader-directed novel that I have been lucky enough to administer these last 6 months and 21 chapters. It has been a joy to share this story with you, and to have you help me tell it with your input.
For this holiday season, whatever you celebrate, I wish you all well, and send hope for a prosperous new year.
If you would like to indulge in some other reading to pass time through the season, I offer up the following links:
Becca - A story after the end
Hosted at: Wattpad.com
Two survivors try to make the most out of their chance meeting. But what price will one pay to stay alive?
"The Next Best Thing"
Hosted at: Fictional Omens
A 2nd year Midshipman is well on his way to a drunken stupor when first year student Mercy Lyons, protagonist of the upcoming novel Alongside the Enemy, enters his crosshairs.
"The London Kiss"
Hosted at: Fictional Omens
The tradition of sharing the first kiss is "granted" to Midshipman Mercy Lyons. Only she's the target of a prank; she has no one to greet her at the station.
I would like to thank all of my readers for their support through the last year. It has been an honor to write for you and I look forward to resuming regular updates to Mind the Thorns in January.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Regan watched as the waitress slid back to their table, a plate of miniature beer glasses balanced before her. Despite a long stretch of partying into the wee hours of the morning, the idea of dating was still something she felt was too elusive. It seemed finding someone at a bar to curl up with and forget the world for a few hours was an easy task. Getting them to call again; that was considerably not so easy.
This whole date had been a bad idea, though she had been left with little choice. It was this or wonder when the police would recognize her car and resume the high speed chase she had just barely survived. As such she really was at Dodger’s mercy.
“Thanks,” he said as Marcella put down the tray of drinks. She quickly began to list off which beers were which, while Dodger smiled politely up at her. Regan tried to follow but got lost in most of the technobabble about brews and after tastes and hops choices. She never was a beer drinker before her death; after it she had avoided anything but blood. She still had no idea how she was going to fake sampling all these tastes without spitting them back up again. It was highly unlikely that a series of beer-based spit-takes was part of Dodger’s grand plan.
Marcella had finished rattling off the choices available to her and turned to smile at her.
“Those all sound great,” Regan said quickly, sure that none of them would taste better then bitter vinegar with a bad sawdust aftertaste. She looked back at Dodger whose eye brows arched upwards to be visible from behind his glasses. She smiled as sincerely as she could under pressure. “But not as good as the waitress,” she said quickly. “You were right she is absolutely adorable.” She reached out to grab Dodger’s hand. “Hon,” she added with what she intended to be a loving nod. “I should know better than to ever doubt my true love’s taste in women.”